


Hunger and Rumor

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [30]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, way too many original characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya is on the trail of a strange sound he's never heard before in his life.  Meanwhile, Renji contends with a rumor mill that's already way out of control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger and Rumor

Byakuya stared up at the bunk over his head. He’d slept a little, meditated some, practiced several hakuda forms, and wandered the open places in the Maggot’s Nest. 

It wasn’t even noon.

He was bored, very, very bored. He stood up and peered into Ten’s top bunk, thinking to ask if there wasn’t something he could trade for a book--any book. Once again, however, Ten seemed to have disappeared. Byakuya considered helping himself to one of the books out of sheer desperation, but he did not want to turn into a thief his first full day in prison.

With a sigh, he turned. He intended to admire the charcoal drawings on the wall, when he heard a strange noise. It was like a gurgling growl and it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Startled, Byakuya glanced around, trying to locate the source. 

It happened again--a low, rolling moan, so close. Byakuya turned again. It sounded like it was right on top of him.

“What are you looking for?” Ten’s head appeared over his stack of books. 

Byakuya wanted to ask Ten how he did that, where he’d been hiding a moment ago, but the sound distracted him. “Do you hear that?” Byakuya asked as it came again, a creaking sort of bubble.

“Wow,” Ten said, his arms crossed on the stack of books near the head of the bunk with a deeply amused expression. “Seriously, you don’t know what that is?”

“No,” Byakuya admitted, feeling a bit foolish for turning toward the sound again, only to see nothing, as if trying to chase his own tail. “Should I?”

Ten rubbed his face, like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Okay. Wow. You are… so, wow. Alright… that noise--” as if on cue, Byakuya heard it again, much louder this time--a deep rumble. “--is your stomach. You’re hungry. Have you seriously never been hungry before?”

“Of course, I’ve been hungry,” Byakuya frowned, putting a hand on his stomach. He did not say, however, that while he’d been hungry before, this was the very first time in his life that he couldn’t just eat. Food had always only ever been a request away. 

Ten nodded like he still couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation. “Well, get use to it. You and me, we’ll get dinner, but it’s not for several hours yet. Water helps fill you up. You can get water any time. You just have to ask for it, in the common room.”

“I see.” Byakuya didn’t enjoy leaving the cell. Since the Insane Division had adopted him, no one approached him or tried to speak with him, but he could feel their eyes watching him and the braver ones threw insults. 

Byakuya had been called many things in his life, but crazy had never before been one of them. He found it bothered him far more than he thought it would. Perhaps because, before this, he could tell himself that the other insults--ruthless, cold, merciless, cruel, unyielding, heartless--were, in point of fact, true, and the people who shouted such things at him were merely jealous. And, more often than not, lying at his feet, defeated.

Ten seemed to understand. “I could come with you, but, uh… I’m not a soldier. I’m not in your division.”

“Are there never alliances with the non-commissioned, as you called yourself?” Byakuya asked, grateful for the conversation to distract from his roiling stomach. Now that he knew what it was, his gut felt empty and gnawing. 

“There are,” Ten said, settling back to rest his chin in his crossed arms. “But never with your group. Nobody wants to end up like Thing One and Thing Two.”

“I imagine not,” Byakuya agreed. “Does no one truly remember their names?”

Ten let out a little breath and looked away for a moment. “I do. Kazue and Kazumi. They were cadets, once. Things happened, they ended up here, and they were so very green, so broken from the separation from their zanpakutō, and so very easily… lured. They say no one heard them scream because Kurotsuchi found some improvised way to surgically cut their vocal cords. When they were finally found… well, it was months in the infirmary. ‘Lucky to survive,’ the healers said. I’m not so sure. Death might have been a blessing.” Ten frowned for a long time at the memory before lifting a shoulder in a kind of shrug. “At any rate, after that, the warden moved Kurotsuchi to solitary lockdown.”

“The warden,” Byakuya murmured. “Kisuke Urahara.”

Ten’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Is it true? Are they both captains now?”

“Yes,” Byakuya said. “Though Urahara is an outlaw, banished.”

Ten’s mouth hung open and he gaped for several long moments, as though completely dumbfounded. Slowly, he said, “Urahara… not Kurotsuchi? Are you sure you’re not delusional, Taicho?” 

#

Renji’s day went by quickly. There was so much to do. He’d always mediated the various in-fights among the division’s soldiers, but now he didn’t have his usual fall back, which was a threat akin to ‘you just wait until your father comes home.’ 

Everyone knew Renji was far less of a hardass than Byakuya and that he really gave a lot fewer fucks about certain rules. He hated being pushed over things he honestly thought trivial because it meant he had to push back or risk losing ground. So he’d spent the day being the biggest asshole in town. 

It didn’t feel that great. In fact, it had given him a headache. A big one.

Renji was so worn down at the end of the second shift that he seriously considered sending a butterfly to invite Seichi to the Kuchiki manor for dinner. But, then he remembered that the Eleventh took great pleasure in squashing any message butterflies that came their way.

It was half the reason Kenpachi never showed for captain’s meetings.

The other half being that he gave zero fucks.

Well, maybe it was only a third of the reason. Sometimes Kenpachi just got lost.

The moment his shift was over, Renji left the headaches to Nanako and headed off to his former regiment. He could have used the walk to unwind, but the weather was miserable. Typical of February, the air was frigid. It had tried to rain the night before, but had come down in an icy, slushy mess that slicked cobblestones and rooftops. Even in flash, Renji had to be careful of his footing. The sun was out, but somehow that made everything colder.

He arrived at the Eleventh’s gate before ‘party hour’--the time of the night when most divisions went into lock-down, but the Eleventh threw their doors wide to anyone willing to risk the gut-rot they served as alcohol--so he had to state his business to two bored looking guards. “Renji Abarai, I’m here to see my brother, Seichi.”

“Oi, Renji,” one of the guards called down, “Did you think we didn’t recognize you with that stupid-ass red pineapple on your head and tattoos all over your ugly mug? It ain’t been that long, has it?”

“It’s not the time,” the other said, “It’s the distance. That’s Captain Abarai down there dont’cha know?.”

The first guard did an exaggerated double-take. “What? Since when?” 

“Since he threw his commander in the clink and stole his job,” the other said. "When was that, Abarai-Taicho-sama, this morning sometime, right?”

Renji glared up at them. He knew the rumor mill would jump all over this, but he didn’t think it would come out this fucking garbled. “That’s not how it happened. I didn’t have him arrested for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah?” mocked guard number two, “How else does a captain end up sent down for fraternization? You saying you were putting up with his grabby hands and someone else busted him?”

“Fraternization?” said guard number one, “Now I know this is bullshit. Ain’t a soul alive finds that tattooed ape so hot-to-trot he’d risk his career for a piece of it.”

“Yeah, I have to admit,” said guard two, “I can’t figure the attraction either. Plus, have you seen that captain Kuchiki? I thought he was a girl first time I saw him. Oi, Renji you letting yourself get pushed around by some pussy?”

“What? What the fuck you say?” Renji shouted, only barely holding on to his temper. His fists clenched at his side, ready to scale the wall to punch this jackass out. Hell, Zabimaru could reach up and slit that guy’s throat in shikai with one flick of the wrist. 

_Not a worthy dinner_ , the Baboon King muttered.

_Too ssstupid_ , the snake-tail agreed. _Unappetizing_.

That calmed Renji down, “Yeah, you know what? That shit you’re saying doesn’t even make sense it’s so moronic.” He let out a breath to try to drop the tension in his shoulders. First rule of the Eleventh: always fight on your own terms. There’s only a fight if you give ‘em one. “You two gossip hounds going to let me in to see my brother or what?”

They made face at him, but the doors swung open.

#

Ten had finally agreed to a barter. He would give Byakuya a book, if he could get that tea that Toda was always stealing from the staff. 

Byakuya considered attempting Toda’s signature move of walking into the unauthorized space and helping himself, but, again, despite how desperate he felt for both the tea and some reading material, that would make him a thief. He wasn’t willing to compromise his honor. Not when his sentence was so short. Thus, he was faced with the equally daunting task of finding Toda and speaking to him.

Which meant asking other people where Toda might normally be found.

In the common room, Byakuya spotted the deserter, Adachi. He was distinctive with his light brown skin and that stark white geometric tattoo that covered half his face like shimmering scales on a fish. As Byakuya approached the deserter’s table, he wondered if the tattoo, like Renji’s, reflected Adachi’s zanpakutō. A water type perhaps? A snake? Or a dragon?

Conversation at their table halted when Byakuya was only halfway there. Adachi stood to face him. The several others at the table rose slightly, ready to defend their leader. Byakuya noticed Adachi’s hand fell, unconsciously, to where his blade would have been. Closing around nothing, his hand curled into a fist. A brief note of pain flicked through his face before he schooled his expression to demand, “What do you want from us, Captain?”

“No trouble,” Byakuya insisted. “Just information. Do you know where I might find Toda?”

Adachi’s hard expression shifted to a curious one. “Toda? You’ve lost your comrade so soon?”

“It seems so,” Byakuya acknowledged.

Adachi’s body language shifted, relaxing somewhat, Byakuya thought. However, he would still be a formidable opponent. He wasn’t so tall as Renji, but he had a similar build and demeanor. Lithe, supple… yes, with the kind of liquid movements of a snake. 

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll tell you where you can find Toda, but you have to answer a question of mine, Captain.”

Byakuya could see no harm in it, so he nodded. “Very well.”

Jerking his head in the direction of the table occupied by the Traitor Division, Adachi said, “That lot seems to think you might not be as crazy as you seem. They claim their welcoming committee was hit with kidō. Diminished, but still functioning, high-level kidō. Is that true? Can you still conjure here?”

After his conversation with Ten, Byakuya felt the need to ask, “Will you believe me, if I say yes?”

“I might just, Captain,” Adachi said. The eyes that sought out Byakuya’s gaze and held it were a striking, pale green and as sharp and penetrating as a snake’s. “There’s something different about you. I think you might be unbroken.”

A murmur rose up at Adachi’s words, and all eyes turned to give Byakuya a long look.

“That’s not possible,” the green-haired trollish Traitor leader said with a snort. “I think his insanity is rubbing off on you, Adachi.”

“Besides,” someone in the crowd chuckled, “If that were true, the warden would be all over that. The poor captain here would be her number one fuck toy.”

Almost everyone seemed to find that hilarious, with the exception Byakuya, of course--and, he noted, most of the Deserter Division. 

When the laughter died down, Adachi turned his back to Byakuya and said, “You will find the Maggot’s Kenpachi where you would expect any Kenpachi: the dojo,” Adachi pointed to one of his crew and said, “Escort the captain, if you would.” 

The man Adachi indicted jumped up without hesitation. As he passed his commander, Adachi put a hand on his shoulder and said, “But get out of there fast. Call the signal if you need.”

“Hai,” the subordinate said with a respectful nod. To Byakuya he said, “Follow me.”

No one in the common room tried to stop them as they left, they all just watched Byakuya and his Deserter escort go with shakes of their head and disbelieving mutters. 

The man that Byakuya followed gave him the impression of a kind of silent dignity. About Byakuya’s own height, he was thin-boned, with short dark hair with unremarkable, if modestly handsome, features. He held his hands together, in front of him, like a priest or a monk. Were it not for the Gotei uniform, Byakuya would assume that was precisely what he was--or rather, had been.

“How did a priest become a warrior?” Byakuya asked once they had left the noise of the common room behind.

The man startled. Recovering quickly, he dipped his head as though in acknowledgment and, with a soft smile, said, “The problem, Captain, was that he did not.”

“You refused an order to kill?” The priest said nothing to that, and so Byakuya pressed, “Could you not have become a healer?”

“The gods have a strong sense of irony, Captain. There is nothing in my soul that is not forged of pure violence.”

Ah, a shame, indeed. However, it seemed like a waste for this man to be sent here. He seemed solid and loyal. Could the Head Captain not have granted a dispensation, one time? “Did they not even consider allowing you to return to the priesthood? Clearly, you take your vow seriously enough that they must know you could cause them no harm.”

Another sad smile graced the man's face. “I may sound educated, Captain, but my shrine is deep in the East Rukongai, in the Sakahone District, Seventy-Six East. No one is allowed outside the walls of the Seireitei armed. Especially not with a zanpakutō named Maouryuu.”

Maouryuu? Devil King Dragon. Depending on how it was written, it could also have connotations of ‘enemy’ or ‘arch nemesis.’ With a name like that alone, Byakuya could understand the head captain’s hesitation--a little. “But, surely they understood you would foment no rebellion, lead no charge against them?”

He laughed out loud at that. “I was a priest. Of course I fomented rebellion! I refused to kill anyone, yes. I cherish life, which also means I feel it’s a sin to stand idly by when even a single soul is murdered from neglect. My people are starving; I want them fed. And do not doubt for a moment that I would’ve made it happen with Maouryuu at my side. No, Captain, I belong here. In the Gotei’s eyes, I am the single most dangerous man you will ever meet. An honest one.”

#

Renji found Seichi in the back of the unseated quarters, deep in a card game. Leaning his shoulder against the wall, Renji watched the game's progress for a few minutes. Seichi was just as devious now as he had been in Inuzuri. These yahoos were losing their shirts to him.

Noticing Renji, one of Seichi’s companions glanced up at him and said, “Your brother’s a dirty, rotten cheat, Abarai.”

Renji snorted a laugh. “Nah, you’re just a fool, who doesn’t know better than to bet against a shark who cut his teeth in Inuzuri gambling dens.”

Everyone folded immediately after that.

“God damn it, Renji,” Seichi said, picking up the cards after they’d scattered. “I had them on the long con. Now everybody is going to know better than to play against me.”

“Sorry, bro,” Renji said sincerely. Reaching out, he offered Seichi a hand up. “Listen, you interested in a free meal?”

“Dude. Always,” Seichi smiled, taking his hand.

“Cool. The Kuchiki invited us up to the big house.”

Once on his feet, Seichi let go like Renji’s touch burned him. “Kuchiki? I.. I thought… he’s supposed to be in jail. Or--oh, I get it, he paid his way out already?”

“Ah, yeah, no, not that one. I should have explained,” Renji said, “Byakuya appointed an heir. Shinobu. He’s a good kid. You’ll like him.”

Seichi looked visibly relieved. He adjusted the bandana that barely kept his dirty-blond dreads in check and, following Renji out, said, “You must be happy, huh?”

“About what?” Renji asked, at a loss to think of anything recently that qualified in that department.

“Well, he’s gone,” Seichi said. “You’re finally out from under that abusive prick.”

Renji stopped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I saw what your captain did to you, Renji,” Seichi said. “The bruises.”

They’d gotten as far as the mess hall. Several Eleventh Division soldiers on the way to dinner gave them a curious look.

Grabbing Seichi by the elbow, Renji steered them to a less populated area. “Seichi, I told you before, you got that all wrong,” he said, his voice low. “I’m into that stuff.”

“Then how come he got arrested? I thought for sure that was down to you.”

Renji gaped at Seichi for a long moment, thinking about all the things the gate guards had said. “Seichi,” Renji’s voice was a growl. “Are you fucking telling people all your crazy theories about Byakuya and me? Because that’s not cool, Seichi. Not cool at all.”

“Everyone here seems sympathetic. They all know what your captain was like when you were trying to do right by Rukia, throwing you in jail and that bloody beat down,” Seichi said. “Nobody thinks less of you that he could get the drop on you. Even the captain thinks Kuchiki is strong.”

“Oh my fucking god, you are not talking about my relationship to Kenpachi, are you?”

Seichi had the sense to look a little nervous. “Um… he might have overheard.”

Renji’s voice was cold and calm when he murmured, “I might actually kill you.”

#

Byakuya sensed they were nearing the dojo from the sounds of battle. There was raging screams and a constant, brutal pounding-whack. 

The priestly escort gave Byakuya a small, apologetic bow. “This is far as I go, Captain. I may have taken a vow of pacifism, but the Maggot’s Kenpachi has done no such thing.”

Byakuya nodded in understanding and thanks. 

Cautiously, Byakuya peered into the prison’s dojo, unsure of what to expect. Surely, they would not have bokken or any other practice weaponry, especially if Toda was not allowed to even briefly hold a mop. 

Yet it seemed inmates were allowed some kind of foam tube. Toda was currently pounding his into shreds against a rubber-suited dummy. When the last of the foam tubing had been pulverized, he knocked over the dummy with his fists. Straddling it, he beat it into the ground until the wood framing shattered and the rubber faux-samurai armor, too, was nothing more than unrecognizable pulp.

Hmmm, perhaps the book wasn’t nearly as important as all that.

Byakuya considered slipping away quietly when Toda seemed to notice him. “Well, if it isn’t Captain Delusion,” he said, dusting off the flecks of wood and such from his uniform. “Please tell me you’ve come to challenge me.”

“Not this time,” Byakuya said. He wasn’t quite sure why he had said it that way, given that he had no intention of fighting this brute. Perhaps it was Kenpachi in general that brought out his belligerent side. Or perhaps it was redheads. “I wondered if you’d be willing to get me more tea.”

Toda gave Byakuya a long stare. “You want me to fetch you some tea?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I work for you?”

“No,” Byakuya said. “I am willing to trade for it.”

“Okay,” Toda said, rubbing his bruised and swollen knuckles absently. “How much tea you need?”

Byakuya considered. “I believe one service would do.”

“When do you want it?”

“At your earliest convenience,” Byakuya said.

“Yeah, I could get you tea tonight,” Toda said, thinking about it. “After you and that weasel have your dinner.”

Byakuya nodded. “Excellent. What do I owe you?”

“Ten,” he said without any hesitation. “Tell your weasel roommate he’s got to come fight me. If he won’t do it, your ass is mine.”


End file.
